


keep telling myself i'm not the desperate type

by tropesdanger (dreadedlaramie)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, pure and unapologetic trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadedlaramie/pseuds/tropesdanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's mind wanders a bit far.</p><p>(Or— Sometimes you say the wrong name in bed, no big deal, it happens.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep telling myself i'm not the desperate type

**Author's Note:**

> set during lateish season 4 i guess, but it doesn't overly matter.

There's a hot chick at the crime scene, because isn't there always, God bless the entire Midwest, and Dean tells her to call if she can think of "anything." She calls, and "anything" turns out to be _awesome_. Her name is Jenny, (or J- _something_ , at any rate), and she tucks her hair behind her ear before going down on him. Awesome.

And all Dean can think of is Cas. Which is weird as hell and probably like seven kinds of fucked up. _Not_ awesome.

He’s annoyed, and worried, still tensed up from earlier, is all; apocalypse and Cas go together these days. It's fine. Totally allowed to worry about the apocalypse. Totally allowed to get annoyed about Heaven's Grand Plan for you. Totally fine. Then Jenny shifts her hand on his hip and the barest edge of her fake nails brush against sensitive skin and for whatever reason he thinks about the handprint on his shoulder— and that's a train of thought that spirals out of his control pretty quickly.

He thinks about how he had felt so _off_ earlier when Jenny traced the lines of his scar with her fingers, like it was an intimacy she shouldn't have, like it wasn't hers to touch— fuck, like _he_ wasn’t hers to touch, like that mark wasn't just an incidental side effect of his rescue but a _claim_ on him (on his _soul_ ) and he's trying to imagine how the rightful owner ( _fuck_ ) getting a hand on it would feel and he has to dig his nails hard into his thigh.

Jenny hollows her cheeks and he has to fight the urge to buck up into her mouth _hard_ — and he wouldn't ever have to hold anything back with Cas would he and he groans. Hell, Cas would be the one holding back, all that angelic wrath and power shoved into borrowed skin— angel of the fucking lord on his knees, Dean's hands in his hair, holding Dean's hip so hard he leaves a matching handprint of bruises— sharp sudden unbidden he's hit with the thought of Cas pinning him down holding back so much and still so much stronger than Dean and he gasps and he _wants_ —and how fucking dare Cas get stuck in his head like this, by the way, because Jenny is sweet and pretty and _talented_ and Dean can't focus on any of that worth shit right now because he's debating whether it would be hotter if Cas knew exactly how to take him apart or if Dean had to teach him— thinks, briefly, about being rebuilt body and soul and, fuck, yeah Cas would definitely know— and Jenny is doing this thing with her tongue that he doesn't even have a _name_ for and he wants to hit his head against the wall until he stops being this constant thought of _Cas Cas Cas_. Because what the fuck.

And, okay. He's usually pretty good about names, he really is, even for one-time stuff because believe it or not he does try not to be a complete and utter _tool_ , so. When he accidentally says _oh god cas please_ low and throaty and fast, it really is (mostly) on accident.

Jenny doesn't even blink at that, takes it as encouragement and thank God for understanding one-night stands. No "who the hell is Cas" conversation, which is good because honestly at this point he has no fucking clue.

It's not a big deal, it's really not. He kind of wanted to hear how he'd sound saying it, is all, how the angel's name would feel like that. Just once. It's not like he could ever find out with Cas himself, for like, a million different reasons, and. He was curious. One time thing, not a big deal, he can think about how much he liked the sound of it later.

There's a rustling that's lost almost entirely under the sound of Dean's breathing.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean thought his imagination would be more creative than that, and it doesn't fit quite right with the whole thing he has going in his head, but it's a nice touch anyway. And creative or not, being reminded of how his name sounds in that voice, sexual already if you squint, is still a lot and _fuck_ he is close and—

Jenny pulls off him and he wants to ask her not to but (and her teeth scrape just a little with how quick she's moving which, _ow_ )—

"I heard your prayer, you sounded... distre—" the voice continues, tone gradually changing from concern to confusion.

Oh. Because, of fucking course. _Fuck._

Dean carefully opens his eyes and looks and, yeah, this is actually happening, this is his life, there's a sub-clause in the Winchester family curse for this exact situation. Dean hits his head against the headboard and sighs. There's a very long pause.

"I should... I should go," Jenny says, sounding like she's trying very, very hard not to sound terrified. Fair. That whole teleportation thing is at best freaky as hell even when you know the guy.

Dean makes the most apologetic face he can manage.

The door to the motel room opens and shuts.

It's fucked up that this is pretty hot to him, right? Like, he's exposed and vulnerable and fucking _humiliated_ , full-body honest-to-god blushing, but his body isn't shifting gears at _all_.

He says "wait" because the thought of Cas leaving right now is the worst thing he can imagine, but he looks over and Cas is just _staring_ at him, all calm and alien and curious ( _it's just a brand-new experience to him this isn't anything special you aren't anything special_ ).

"I left something very important for this," Castiel says, absently. Dean hears regret? disappointment? annoyance? in it, or imagines he does. But he hasn't left yet, so there's that.

"Yeah?" Dean's voice is weak, higher than usual, broken-sounding. He wraps a hand around his cock. "How important? You pissed?" He's very good at a few things and one of them is bad decisions.

Cas stares in transfixed confusion. "Very…" Dean starts to move, slowly and deliberately, and stares at Cas right back. "…important. Apocalyptic omens in Tunisia." Dean takes a second to feel more important than the goddamn apocalypse, and huffs out a breath. "And no, I am n— That is extremely disrespectful, what you're doing."

"Is it? Oh. Should I stop?" He speeds up, arches into his hand.

"Dean," Cas says, scolding and desperate, and yeah, that's a step in the right direction, definitely, but Dean's already a panting mess. It's a miracle he's lasted even this long.

"What were— _ah_ — what were the omens?" Dean asks, and yeah he knows objectively that's really weird but he can't think of how else to make Cas _stay_ , here and annoyed and _watching_.

Cas tries to pretend that nothing is happening, starts talking about the omens like it's why he showed up in the first place, but his words are rushed and out-of-breath and his cheeks are flushed, and so Dean picks up the pace, starts putting on a show in earnest— a million low and breathy noises as he runs his nails down the lines of his body, _god_ and _please_ and _cas_ spilling easily out of his mouth as he bucks into his hand.

"The presence of this sort of power can onl—"

With a hint of a smirk, Dean moans directly over what Cas was trying to say, wanton and shameless and _loud_.

" _Dean_ ," Cas says again and his eyes are wide and dark and he sounds _furious_ and like he doesn't know whether he wants to fuck Dean or destroy him or _both_ and it's so much better than Dean would have ever imagined and he comes so hard he thinks he might actually have been legally dead for a second or two.

When he can almost breathe again he smiles, feeling a bit triumphant— until he hears a small frustrated noise and the rustle that means Cas has left and he comes down and realises how fucking stupid he's just been.

**Author's Note:**

> this is like one of my all-time favorite ship-specific tropes, thanks ,


End file.
